Court and Courtship
by Auk-1
Summary: After a week aboard the Ark Natanus, Pathfinder Ryder and his spiky significant other find themselves cordially invited to attend one of the Hierarchy's most traditional- and whimsical- military ceremonies. [Male Ryder / Vetra Nyx]
1. Clocking Out

Preface: The following story contains mature themes and describes explicit acts of a xenophilic nature. If you wish to skip/skip to this content, it appears at the conclusion of the third act. Mass Effect: Andromeda is a copyright of Electronic Arts and Bioware Corp.

 **Court and Courtship**

 **Chapter I: Clocking Out**

The familiar starscape of the Heleus Cluster winked into view from the bridge of the _Tempest._ The sleek starship left a rippling wake as she left superluminal space, the vast ocean of Andromeda's stars lensing about the vessel for a fleeting moment, the looming hulk of the Ark _Natanus_ coming into sight dead ahead. The great craft lay derelict, bathed in the beams of Nexus salvage ships and the faint rays of the local red giant alike. The dying star had not been predicted to leave the main sequence when the Andromeda Initiative had designated this the future Turian home system, a decision made nearly six hundred years past- another footnote in a growing list of unwelcome surprises offered by the uncharted galaxy. The ark drifted along, enshrouded in the shattered remains of H-047c, orbiting the Neptunian world below. In every direction the luminous filaments of the Scourge trailed into an inky, foreboding labyrinth, the intricate formation beautiful as it was deadly. The scars of multiple breaches torn along her hull bore testament to the destructive potential of this maliciously engineered cosmic force.

As the agile _Tempest_ skirted past the twin spires of the _Natanus'_ bow, Pathfinder Avitus Rix was the first to hail their return.

"I've got you on scope, _Tempest_. How copy?"

Pathfinder Ryder keyed his omni-tool as he paced the flight deck, linking to the voice channel.

"Solid copy, _Natanus_. Our route back through the Scourge remains open; long range patrol turned up no sign of enemy incursion. How's the recovery work wrapping up?"

Avitus seemed pleased at the news, clearing his throat before announcing enthusiastically,

"That's excellent. We're loading up the last of the cryo-pods we can still stuff onto the shuttles. Shouldn't be more than a day till we're set to head home, if Commander Raev is to be believed. Her tech crews look like they're finishing ahead of schedule today."

He paused for a moment before adding,

"Naturally, I think she has yours to thank for that."

Ryder breathed a sigh of relief. The past week's routine of loading the cryo pods onto Nexus-bound freight vessels hadn't proven quite so simple an endeavor as anyone had first hoped, and his anxiousness to complete the mission was surfacing more acutely the closer they approached the finish line. Between the tasks of delegating his crew in assisting Raev's company, running the _Tempest_ through regular patrols in the general vicinity of the ark, and ordering his APEX teams into light skirmishes to divert the enemy's attention away from this particular corner of the cluster, the human Pathfinder had come to feel thoroughly worn down by the weight of the eight thousand turian lives resting on his ability to pull this off right.

Fortunately, his burden was eased significantly by the diligence of his fellow Pathfinder, as it was by the sight of his team in action. He had to admit that all hands aboard the _Tempest_ had performed admirably to make this happen. A week ago they'd helped Avitus painstakingly thaw out a turian expeditionary company from a designated military pod, and within a few short days "Raev's Raiders" had nearly half of the Natanus' precious cargo secured for transit back to the Nexus, the martial haste and discipline exhibited by the veteran outfit scarcely weathered by six centuries in the frosty slumber of suspended animation.

Kallo Jath kicked a thruster petal with a practiced foot, bringing the _Tempest_ sideslipping astride the ark, the frame-like hulks of the freighters coming into view, hazard lights flicking in synchronization. Tethered to the Natanus in a neat row off her starboard, a closer inspection revealed them to be powered down, exhibiting no movement of cargo along their transfer tethers. The day's work had indeed concluded, as Avitus suggested.

"Looks pretty quiet down there Avi, I'll make the rounds and pick up my crew. Sixteen hours rest and we'll put a bow on this thing in another twelve with any luck. Ryder out."

Avitus acknowledged and signed off. The swept wings of the _Tempest_ soon banked leisurely to port, tracing a new path to the airlocks of the Commons. A newfound stillness fell upon the bridge, the silence persisting for only a moment before Suvi commented on the Raiders' situation.

"Gonna be awful lonesome to be stranded out here for another week before Raeka's team comes in to pick up the rest... whaddya suppose they'll do in the meantime?"

Ryder slouched against the railing of the galaxy map, gazing pensively at the tortured hull of the ark as Kallo's maneuver brought them within spitting distance.

"Well, it'll only take a couple days to prep the rest of the pods, I imagine. After that, I have no clue. If Raev has a sense of humor she could probably order the artificial gravity powered down and have her crew play turian pinball or something- I mean, that's what I would do."

Kallo stifled a chortle, bemused by the mental image.

"Don't let Vetra hear you say that, Ryder. She's been working in the reactor pool and could probably make that happen at any given moment."

He chanced a glance at the Pathfinder before continuing inquisitively,

"Say, that reminds me... what's the deal with her remodeling your ceiling? I recall her mentioning something about reinforcing weak spots in the hull at one point, but Peebee said her floating friend analyzed those panels as soundproofing. Not armor."

Ryder arched an eyebrow, a move Gil could attest was a tell when the Pathfinder was caught off-guard. Fortunately, he remembered Vetra's other cover story, taking only a moment to compose himself before playing it cool.

"Ah, right. Truth is she's taken up a hobby of hers to another level. Would you have ever guessed she indulges in... singing?"

Now that he mentioned it, Suvi could vaguely recall wondering if the faint screeching sounds she could sometimes hear coming from Ryder's quarters were due to this. These noises didn't sound very musical to her, she mused... but then, who was she to judge the musical merit of another species' tunes anyway? The train of thought led her to remember her own musical exposition a lifetime ago, memories she held closely.

"Oh that's... quite sweet Ryder. You know I used to be a choir girl once upon a time if you can believe that. But before I go offering to teach her an Amazing Grace duet or anything, could you tell me what kind of music she's into? More the rock-and-roll type, I reckon."

The idea of Suvi and Vetra practicing hymns in his bedroom drew a chuckle from the Pathfinder as he mulled the question over, deciding to weave a strand of truth into the yarn he was spinning as he replied,

"You might be surprised, actually. There's this style that was popular in her sister's colony that she's into. Can't remember the name of it right now. The music is slow and synth, and sometimes kind of jazzy or bluesy, but the singing is always in this obscure turian dialect the translator never picks up. Drack and I used to hang around the hatch to the armory when we'd catch her humming a tune and, if we were quiet enough she'd usually start singing."

He gave a faint smile as he reminisced,

"Kinda freaked her out the first time she caught us doing that, at least until we let her know how much we liked it. Still though, she mostly keeps it to herself."

Kallo pondered the Pathfinder's words as he eased the sleek scout ship into the docking hub, a skywalk extending to seal against the ship's airlock with a dull _thud,_ the hull locks killing their residual momentum.

"Well Ryder, as much as I would have loved to critique your future duets, at least this clears up one of many mysteries surrounding your stateroom. Perhaps we may yet discover the source of other odd noises, like that periodic percussion we hear from here. Seems like that started the day someone burned meat in the galley. Anyways, we're locked down and you're cleared to cross."

Suvi perked up at the mention of this.

"That's right, now I remember that too! What's up with that?"

Ryder turned towards the rear hatch, both to prepare for departure and to hide his reddened face from sight. As cool as he could manage, he shrugged and pretended to adjust his boot, lingering on the bridge long enough to quash any undue implications.

"I've already explained it to Drack a dozen times... my space hamster got loose and knocked some stuff around, that's all."

"...and scratched you up enough to require medigel and antihistamines, if I heard Lexi correctly." added Kallo as casually as he could muster.

"Well... yeah, that too. Feisty critter, that one. I'm off to make the rounds now, catch you two later."

A cool blast of air hissed into the cabin as the airlock cycled and the Pathfinder beat a hasty exit, his footfalls quickly fading into the dim confines of the ark. Kallo turned and caught Suvi smirking impishly as she powered down the engines, her professional bearing cracking wide as the grin that spread across her face.

"Yup. Feisty critter indeed, Pathfinder."

Ryder made his way wearily down yet another ladderwell on his downward journey through the engineering decks. Rounding up his crew had gone smoothly enough at first, starting with him running into Dr. Lexi running triple checks on outbound pods' life support, while Cora and Gil pored over a reference manual nearby for tuning the drive fields of the freighters' propulsion. Letting them know the _Tempest_ was back in port, he left them to finish their work and set off in search of his more hapless crew members.

He found Liam lounging with a fireteam of Raiders, playing an unfamiliar card game that involved hands getting slapped. The Pathfinder's appearance was enough of a distraction to ensure Liam took a heavy turian palm to the back of his hand, forcing him to relinquish his cards and dignity. Throwing up his hands, he called it a day and halfheartedly assured his companions that he'd get them next time, much to their bemusement.

Taking a stroll down Hydroponics, Ryder next caught Drack as he breathed in deeply of an alien flower, savoring the scent with lidded eyes before noticing him and returning to his stoic demeanor. The tangy odor of sun-flumes was special to him, Drack said, as he could remember picking the vaguely citrus-smelling flowers for someone close to him many centuries ago. But that was a story for another time, he insisted, and one better shared with a bottle of ryncol. He bid the Pathfinder farewell as he walked on by toward the docks.

Taking a stroll past the crew quarters in search of Jaal, the angaran instead found him as he tumbled abruptly out of a hatch, locked in a grapple with an armored turian. The sparring aliens landing heavily on the dazed Pathfinder in a heap of flailing limbs and spurs, and just as Ryder began to wonder if he was witnessing the opening blows of a race war, the three were helped back up to their feet by a platoon of cheering turian spectators who had been following the melee. One individual bearing the blue armband of a medic briefly checking them over for injuries before clearing the two contenders and their unwilling landing mat.

Ryder looked over his angaran crewman half stunned, and half in amusement as Jaal apologized profusely, the lilac alien radiating concern from those big blue eyes of his like a pair of runaway fission pits. The Pathfinder insisted he was fine, and watched amused as Jaal dismissed himself amicably from his sparring partner, bidding the lanky turian farewell in the angaran manner by touching forearms and bumping fists on each others'' shoulders. He joined the Pathfinder in his walk down the hall, breaking the ensuing silence with a velvet voice,

"Ryder, I often find that martial training offers a unique insight into one's friends and rivals alike. But if we are set to leave so soon, do you think it would be fitting to make our last session tomorrow a proper duel, with pugils or perhaps blunted swords?"

Even in Ryder's suggestible state of fatigue, he couldn't think of any way such a match could end well.

"I'm pretty sure that's how at least a couple of wars have started, big guy. Get some rest and patch yourself up so you don't scare Lexi, alright?"

Jaal stopped at the entrance to a lift that would bring him to the appropriate docking bay, Ryder looking down pensively at the faint rows of talon-marks along his purple-skinned arms where the turian had grazed him. As he entered the lift, Jaal met Ryder's gaze with the smallest, slyest grin.

"Worry not Ryder. If the good doctor finds me, I'll merely inform her I was ambushed by the fiercest of little hamsters."

Before he could respond, the angaran was already rocketing down towards the Tempest.

"Well I'm never going to live that down, am I?" Ryder mused ruefully. He took the nearest ladderwell to the engineering deck, ruminating on the memory of that strange and wonderful evening when Vetra had lovingly tried to surprise him with a romantic dinner. Ryder cherished most the memory of seeing her downcast expression brighten as he commended the kindness of her gesture and insisted that nothing could ruin his appreciation of her, least of all a charred entrée. Since that day they had practiced cooking alien cuisine for one another on occasion, though the steamy conclusion of that first dinner date had imprinted a rather Pavlovian response upon both of them, whetting their appetite for more than just the meal by the time the food was served.

Ryder smiled to himself as he crossed another empty atrium. That night was definitely worth his crew's light jabs. Upon reaching the far bulkhead, Ryder prepared to open the hatch when the handle suddenly turned on its own accord. Bracing instinctually for another pair of aliens to barrel through, he was instead greeted by Poc and Peebee, the latter beckoning him through with exaggerated flourish of an outstretched arm. Ryder stepped past her Remnant tinkertoy and rested against the bulkhead, eyeing up the powderkeg asari and her robotic assistant as she crossed him by. The two had made a valuable team over the past week tracking down and repairing the source of incessant power surges and outages wracking the deteriorating vessel daily.

It was an assignment that also gave the adventurous woman free reign to roam and explore every nook of the _Natanus_ , though lately Peebee had commenced upon the slightly disturbing habit of following her crewmates through the service corridors above, transmitting video feeds from above of their activities to Ryder with her own dubbed narrations, in the manner of a nature documentary. At least he would only have to bear it for another day, Ryder figured. After that he would have to coax her into some other off-the-wall antic. Still, it was better than her popping off escape pods for impromptu day trips to volcanic worlds.

"How's my favorite voyeur-engineer duo holding up?" asked Ryder.

Peebee's face was a mask of mock indignation.

"Whoa now Pathfinder, there's no need to call Poc hurtful names. It's only natural for a bot like him to be curious. Besides, it's not stalking if I'm documenting my observations in the name of research."

Ryder shook his head slowly as if addressing a petulant child.

"I'm just warning you Peebs, if I find your friend hiding under my roof again I'm gonna sic Zap on him. Like, with the beam _and_ the missiles."

It was telling that she didn't even attempt to deflect the implied accusation. Instead she gave Ryder a familiar hand-in-the-cookie-jar look and stood demure.

"I'll uh... keep him on a tighter leash then, Ryder. Promise."

He gave her a smile before lowering his voice conspiratorially.

"I'd appreciate that. But tell you what, though- hold on to that footage for your little 'documentary' and forward it to me when this mission is through. Might make good material for a movie night. Now go catch some sleep. _Tempest_ is in port."

The mischievous asari giggled as she followed Poc through the hatch and dismissed herself.

"Heh, who's the voyeur now huh? Alright, Ryder. See ya around."

Another journey through deserted halls and the dim red illumination of the ark's access shafts brought Ryder to his last stop, the massive vault doors leading to the ark's power plant. With an ephemeral groan they swung open on powered hinges, granting him entrance into the outermost containment vessel of the reactor. Ryder strode tentatively to a window in the foyer of the control pit, through which the eerie blue glow of the reactor pool shone a hundred meters below, reflections of surface waves dancing along the walls like luminous arms bidding him welcome. SAM indicated that continuing past this point would require him to don protective equipment for hard radiation. This was as far as he would go.

Ryder stared at the inviting but deadly waters below him for several moments longer before he paced the room, glancing at his omni-tool to find which substation Vetra was located in. A gust of cool air from a ventilation duct made his hair dance as he passed underneath, and the Pathfinder took a moment to find the spot again and relish the cool breeze. By this hour the Pathfinder was quite fatigued, and he closed his eyes briefly as he savored the fresh air. The sound of it rushing past his ears was loud enough to mask the light pitter-patter of clawed feet running behind him until it was too late.

Ryder only managed to turn himself halfway around by the time the metallic blur of the _Tempest's_ logistics officer slammed into him with the strength of a lineman. A small yelp caught in his throat as the wind was knocked out of his chest upon colliding with the window, pressed against the warm glass in a textbook arm bar. The natural strength of his attacker's hands were enhanced by the powered exosuit she was decked in, leaving Ryder struggling breathlessly to no avail like a captured perp brought to street justice. A series of clicks and whirs sounded behind him, and in the reflection of the window Ryder saw the helm of her suit fold away to reveal Vetra's jubilant face, the predatory gaze of her green eyes locking onto the reflection of his own. As the human submitted under the gentle pressure she exerted on his arm, Ryder felt the hairs of his neck stand on end as Vetra's breathing tickled his ear, her husky voice electrifying him as she chastised playfully,

"You're letting your guard down, Ryder. Have to be more careful around these parts. You never know when a vicious predator might sneak up and-"

She kissed him on the neck, interrupting herself as she nibbled her way up to his earlobe.

"take advantage- of such- a good- boy as you."

Mercifully, Vetra released Ryder from her clutches with one final kiss, allowing him to turn about and face his affectionate assailant. The breathless Pathfinder soon found his voice as he brought his racing heart to heel.

"I don't think vicious predators play with their food quite the way you do, love. Unless your strategy is giving your prey a heart attack..."

Another coy smirk graced the towering femtur's face.

"Perhaps- but if you croak on me Ryder, you know I'm just going to make SAM revive you so I can finish you off properly."

Vetra's expression softened as Ryder felt the light tremors of adrenaline ebbing through his hands and into hers as she held him.

"I got you good, didn't I?"

He simply nodded. The turian woman stroked a hand through his hair and planted a tender kiss on his forehead, dropping her voice to a soothing whisper.

"Sorry if I got a little carried away. Sweating it out in the reactor all day in this damn rad suit has me a little stir-crazy, you know? You're a sight for sore eyes, sweetie."

The Pathfinder wrapped his arms around Vetra's waist as she ran her talons down his scalp, the metallic plating of the suit thrumming almost imperceptibly against his fingers as the active shielding deflected even the background radiation of the foyer. Ryder smiled suggestively.

"You would think wearing a vibrating suit all day would be an exciting prospect. But if you've had your fun, then let's get that thing off you so we can head back to the Tempest."

Vetra chuckled, releasing Ryder and crossing her arms, motioning with a flick of her head to follow her. She led him to a nearby decontamination chamber, where she stood on a platform as an array of articulated robotic appendages stripped her piecemeal of the gleaming radiation suit, leaving her bare save for a silken pair of panties matching the shade of purple streaked across her face.

"Let's just say the novelty of a vibrating suit wears off pretty quick."

Vetra took a moment to stretch her liberated body, surely as much for her own benefit as to tease him, Ryder thought. A thin sheen of sweat glistened between her scales and plates, clinging to his fingers as he embraced his exposed lover from behind, taking in the heady scent of her day's exertions as she shivered slightly under his touch. He nuzzled against her mandible before suggesting seductively,

"I think a nice soapy bath is in order for this apex predator."

She gave another lilting chuckle. "Never realized you could read minds, Ryder."

Vetra indulged his caressing touches for another minute before retrieving a familiar set of armor from a wall locker, clicking each plate into place after donning the primary suit and harness, Ryder helping her secure the more difficult components with a satisfying series of clicks. They continued to make idle conversation in the process, and were nearly finished when Vetra abruptly turned, pulling free of Ryder's grasp.

"Something wrong?" he inquired, wondering why his companion was suddenly bouncing on her toes and clapping her talons excitedly.

"Oh! Oh! Before I forget- Varka Raev has something special planned for you. She's inviting us and Avitus as the guests of honor for a Court Night she's putting on for the company tomorrow evening before we depart. Are you familiar with the ceremony at all?"

Ryder shook his head, watching as Vetra regarded him pensively while securing the last piece of her suit.

"I think you'll enjoy it. It's one of the few traditions of the Hierarchy's armed forces that I kind of lament not experiencing when I was younger. I think it'll be right up your alley. At the very least you'll have a satisfying dinner and plenty of drink to wash it down. And before you ask, I'll be helping their cook whip up something levo for you. No burnt entrees this time, I promise."

"Well, I guess I'm sold."

The Pathfinder voiced his approval at the prospect as the two stepped off to begin the long walk back to the _Tempest_. Linking silently to SAM, Ryder remotely commanded open the tap running above the bathtub stowed in his quarters, simultaneously activating the stereo to begin playing a selection of ambient music at a soft volume. Waking Zap through the aid of his implant, he then commanded his Remnant familiar to maintain the water at a particular temperature in anticipation of their arrival.

 _Ah, the perks of having AI symbiotes grafted into your head to obey your every whim,_ he mused.

As they walked hand in hand down the dim corridors, Ryder made a note to have Zap also run a sweep of his quarters for any trace of Poc or other asari tomfoolery. He'd rather keep his nocturnal habits with his spiky girlfriend off of Peeb's weird nature documentaries.

But then again, perhaps it was past time to deliver on Vetra's suggestion that he attach lewd recordings onto his routine correspondence with Director Tann...


	2. Confections and Confessions

**Chapter 2: Confections and Confessions**

Vetra hummed a tune to herself as she cast a sidelong glance at Ryder, trying to read his expression as the two waited patiently for the lift to complete its long journey to the _Natanus_ ' wardroom. An hour had passed since the Pathfinder had dismissed the _Tempest_ crew for their last night free aboard the ark, their tasks completed to the satisfaction of Commander Raev, who now hailed Ryder on his omni-tool. Vetra watched as her companion retrieved an earpiece from beneath a flower pocketed in his dinner jacket and answered cordially. The two conversed for a few moments before he stopped to give Vetra an apprising look from crest to toe and announced triumphantly,

"Yes. Yes ma'am. The dress fits her just right, if I say so myself. Yeah. No honestly, I should be the one thanking you. Oka- Yes. We'll be there soon. Ryder out."

Looking down appreciatively at the silken black folds of the splendid garment, Vetra basked in Ryder's lingering gaze as he concluded his call. She strode in front of him, stooping over slightly to adjust the quaint cloth neckpiece tied around his collar, pausing to fill her nostrils with the subtle floral scent of his cologne blended into her lover's natural musk. As she manipulated the article, Ryder inquired quietly,

"Thanks. Any chance you can tell me what I'm in for, by the way? Avitus was kinda cryptic about it when I asked him, and when I mentioned it to Jaal he seemed convinced that I'm going headlong into some kind of warrior's invocation. Seriously. Even offered to show me some sparring techniques he picked up to avoid getting spurred."

She found the angaran's concern for the Pathfinder charming; little could he know that it was a valid concern between her and Ryder.

"Speaking of spurring, you're going to need a bigger bathtub."

Vetra rubbed idly along Ryder's shoulder where she had given him a careless poke during their bubbly adventures the previous night. The human tensed slightly before allowing her to continue, muttering sweet nothings and promises of ambitious tubs under his breath, much to her delight. She shifted her footing as the lift began to decelerate, descending gracefully to a halt at the lobby of the command deck. A familiar figure elegantly clad in a Spectre's formal service uniform approached their platform, giving the couple a salutary nod as they reached the platform at last.

"And speak of the devil, there's your fellow Pathfinder."

Avitus Rix swallowed the mentholated candy he had been playing with idly in his mouth, smiling broadly as he greeted his Initiative compatriots disembarking the lift.

"Fashionably early, are we?"

He extended a hand to Vetra, who accepted it as she stepped off, taking care not to trample the fringes of her flowing dress. She embraced him in greeting and gratitude, the faint but invigorating scent of her perfume bringing to mind the evergreens of a distant galaxy as he shook Ryder's hand warmly, a happy expression written on the human's features.

"Good to see you too Avi. Anything we can help out with on setting this thing up, if we're early?"

Avitus shook his head emphatically in the human manner as he led them into the foyer of the dining hall.

"Negative, Ryder. You're off the clock here, as you might say. Just take it easy and enjoy this. That goes for you too, Miss Nyx. I must say-"

A surreptitious " _Psst!_ " interrupted him as a woman poked her face out of a doorway from the direction of the galley, excitedly waving hello to the Pathfinders before curling a talon in a come-hither gesture to Vetra, who suddenly excused herself.

"Ah… hold that thought Avitus, looks like somebody needs something done. You boys go on ahead, fix yourselves a drink. I'll be right back."

Avitus shrugged and looked to Ryder, gesturing to a makeshift bar set up by an observation window that spanned the length of the deck.

"Shall we?"

Thankful for ethanol's lack of chirality, Avitus watched as the bartending Raider accommodated Ryder's request for a "whiskey that won't kill me", before filling his cocktail glass with a second Heat Sink. He watched the human intently as he raised the glass high.

"Ah ah! Not yet my friend. The giving of toasts on a Court Night is reserved for the appointed time."

Ryder slowly brought the glass down.

"Well shit, Avi. Hasn't been five minutes and I'm already committing a faux pas".

He heard himself chuckle, a raspy note escaping his maw.

"I had such high hopes for you, too." he jested, subtly clinking his glass against Ryder's. Both took a deep draught of their respective poison before setting their glasses down.

In silence the two turned their gaze past the window, towards the faint glow of solar light reflected off the cloud tops of the cerulean gas giant. The planet cast a glow upon the distant Scourge, painting the fringes of the deathly cirrus in a somber, faraway blue. Despite the festive atmosphere, Avitus couldn't help but feel a tinge of a familiar hollowness creep through him as his eyes roamed the beckoning void. Somewhere out there, scattered into that emptiness, the ashes of the one who meant everything to him were hitching the cosmic winds, seeding the Heleus with an irreplaceable piece of his heart.

"Feeling alright, big guy?"

Broken from his reverie, Avitus looked down to notice he had been carving into the base of his glass with an idle talon. He brushed it aside hastily, looking back up to meet a concerned look on Ryder's expressive human face.

 _Aw shit._ He supposed he was wearing his heart on his sleeve again, leaving him searching for something to say that could divert the conversation away from his internal distress. It wasn't the first time someone had caught him sinking into that hole over a drink either- Avitus recalled the words of another human he'd spoken with during one of many benders he'd pulled in Vortex during those first agonizing weeks, when he'd ditched the grief counseling scheduled for him in favor of the merciful, world-killing warmth offered by a shot of good Horosk.

Grief, he recalled her saying, came like wave after wave battering a shipwreck, leaving a survivor holding painfully onto any piece of wreckage for survival, even if every drifting piece only served as a painful reminder of the ship's former glory. Time would make the waves smaller, more sporadic, but only he could release himself at some point, and reach out for the proverbial lifesaver extended by those around him who cared. For what it was worth, Avitus was grateful that someone like her could remind him that he would never find his ship in a bottle, no matter how much it might numb the pain in searching. He gave a heavy sigh. If there was anyone he should be straight with, it was probably his fellow Pathfinder.

"Well I won't bullshit you, Ryder. I think I could have gone the rest of my days without coming back here after what happened. Those first days back, visiting the SAM node and just going through Macen's logs again, simply the mundane ones he kept as notes or reminders… well, I think the only thing that let me keep it together was having a mission to pursue. Don't get me wrong, I'm glad we're finishing this thing off right- but now that I've got nothing to do but sit and think I'm not sure this is the best place for me to be."

Avitus watched as Ryder nodded, one ear cocked to him as he fidgeted with his own glass, the cubes of ice clinking as he spun it slowly between his many fingers.

"It's hard. Damn hard sometimes, I know. You know what though? I'm glad you managed to recover all that from his SAM- your SAM. I'm glad I was alone when I decrypted a memory locked in mine by my father, where I saw myself by my mother's deathbed a long long time ago. Even though it hurts to relive something like that, I've been feeling more grateful lately for seeing that again. The fact that I meant enough to my parents that I can feel their determination to make this work out for us in every memory of theirs from the Milky Way… I think that helps me pull myself together now, when a couple months ago it broke me to even think about. So I'm just glad I convinced you to take the reins that were extended by someone who believed in you, just as I did. And you're done a hell of a job so far; this op is just a juicy cherry on top of everything you've done for the Nexus from the cockpit of that interceptor. Chin up, Pathfinder."

The turian smiled weakly. He knew Ryder made a compelling case, and even felt a new kinship in the discovery that he too, struggled with internalizing SAM memories left behind by the previous owner. While he did not believe his sorrow would fade quite as quickly as Ryder implied, he resolved that at least he could make this an enjoyable night for his friends. Making it through a Court Night unscathed was no simple mission, after all…

"It means more to me than you'd know, that you shared the same faith Macen did that I could do this. Thank you for that, Ryder."

The two spent another minute polishing off their drinks and taking in the view. Far in the distance the lead freighter floated idle, primed for tomorrow's voyage home. Avitus smiled. Though he couldn't see it from this distance, he knew the name of the vessel was listed as the _Jagdhase Szott,_ named after a children's story about a German hare that hunted poachers by implicating them as high-profile criminals in elaborate ways. He sounded the name absentmindedly to himself, though his articulation of the twin consonants at the end made it sound closer to _scotch_. As fortune would have it, this was precisely the drink Ryder ordered next, sans specification on dextro toxicity.

As he raised his own vacant chalice to order a refill, he felt something nagging at him about what Ryder had said earlier.

"Now I know asking about human idioms is playing with fire, Ryder- but what the hell is a _cherry_?"

" _Aaaannd chezhies!_ " cried Ayrea, arriving at the end of a handwritten list.

Vetra produced a package of bite-sized crimson globules, planting them on the galley counter beside the rest of the levo ingredients and substitutions they'd managed to scrounge from the _Natanus'_ stores.

"I… don't think that's how it's pronounced, but good to know that we've got everything. "

With an intensity typically reserved for plotting an eleventh-hour arms deal on some forsaken alley in Kadara, Vetra surveyed the foodstuffs laid before her, mentally calculating how long each component of the four-course levo meal she envisioned would take to prepare, cook, and garnish. As it often came naturally, the instinct to delegate took hold as she looked towards Ayrea, who sniffed curiously at the fruit that challenged her pronunciation. As much as Vetra grew to enjoy the company of this feisty and warmhearted girl, she wouldn't put it past her to pop something life-threatening into her mouth on an errant whim. Still, her experience as a cook aboard the Nexus was worth some renown, at least enough for the captain of one salvage vessel to insist on bringing her along. Surely given her mouthwatering roast, which now lay simmering in the primary galley belowdecks, it wouldn't be too much to assume she had some experience making the type of meal Vetra had in mind for Ryder.

"You've cooked human cuisine before, right Ayrea?"

"I baked a bunch of cookies when the _Hyperion_ arrived... "

"Any other time?"

She hesitated for a moment as she marinated on the question, before happily adding,

"Oh! I baked a bunch more when the _Hyperion_ made it to Meridian!"

 _Spirits, Ayrea. Sometimes you remind me of Sid._

"Good enough. Bring the dough cannister, l-glucose, starch, and _cherries_ please. I'll show you what you need to do to make the dessert. Let's start it now since it'll take the longest to bake."

Setting down the components by the coilbox they'd use to heat the pastry, Ayrea next fetched a metal bowl in which to prepare the crust. As she mixed the batter under her friend's guidance, a stray puff of starch blew across Vetra's dress, sowing a constellation of powdery stars against the dusky garment.

" _Ah!"_ Vetra exclaimed, dusting off the powder. Shushing Ayrea from what would no doubt be a dramatic flurry of apologies, she raised a talon for silence, and looked around the galley for a service closet.

"Just a second, sweet pea."

Vetra strode off towards the washroom, leaving Ayrea standing alone, slowly churning the emulsifying batter, an apologetic countenance painted on her striped face. A minute later Vetra emerged, hanging her cleaned dress atop the open hatch. In its place was nothing but an apron several sizes too small, protecting little more than her modesty… and only from the front, at that.

She looked down disapprovingly, then up to meet Ayrea's dumbfounded gaze. Her mixing hand was barely moving.

"What? That's not even _my_ dress you know… and not a word of this to anyone, you hear?"

Ayrea's eyes never left her as she twice crossed a talon diagonally down her chest, pantomiming the human gesture for indicating a secret was safe. It took her a moment to realize she was still holding the spoon as she did so.

"Spirits above, Ayrea."

With one finger Vetra wiped the tacky batter from the awed girl's carapace, slinging the gooey wad back into the bowl before plunging the digit into her mouth to clean it off. She marveled at the salty sweetness for only a second before remembering this was a levo recipe.

Spitting out the mixture hastily, she washed her mouth out under the sink while Ayrea giggled, broken from her spell. From under the faucet Vetra watched her form the crust and pour the cherry emulsion on top, covering the confection with crisscrossing ribbons of dough to a respectable degree of radial symmetry. Opening the coilbox, Vetra helped her set the time and heat settings to bring their creation to an appropriate crisp. The two looked on in satisfaction as Vetra worked her tongue across her mouth to clean away the last of the offending batter.

"You know... that's not even the first time I've done that. At least with me it's only the occasional lick of icing or cookie dough. Last time Ryder did something like this I almost had to stick my finger down his throat."

Ayrea leaned against the counter, intrigued at where this was going.

"Oh my. Usually they have to pay extra for that."

Vetra blinked. _Sassy little dough puncher tonight, are we?_ She thought as she rolled with the jest, giving a predatory grin as she responded,

"Yeah, usually. But now that you mention it…" She raised her longest talon up to eye level, still slick with saliva from her miscalculated indulgence, "I guess sticking something this long down his mouth would only be fair payback."

Now it was Ayrea's turn to blush. "O-oh wow." she stammered. "I guess first contact wasn't- you know what- I'm not even gonna make that joke. I'm actually real happy for you two. I bet he's gonna love this."

The aproned turian nodded. "That's what I'm counting on."

Taking a look over the remaining ingredients, the more fully-clothed of the two separated those they would need for the main course from those of the appetizer.

"I guess we're working our way up then, Vee. What's the plan for the entrée?"

Vetra straightened out her apron, pensively unsealing a package of brittle quills that looked as if they'd been plucked from the hide of some burrowing grazer back home- old home anyways. Ayrea looked equal parts impressed and incredulous.

"That... looks like something you'd pack in a flechette shell for a field gun. How does that go in their mouths?"

"I know. But you put just in water and heat it, it turns soft and chewy. Then you put sauce and garnish over it and most humans will love it."

"Does- does it like, satisfy some sort of primal feeding instinct? Like uh, did they used to eat stringy worms way back when?"

Vetra sighed patiently. Sometimes it seemed Ayrea's interpersonal eccentricity was challenged only by her imagination.

"I think I can safely say that's not the case. But it's an interesting theory nonetheless. Maybe you'll just have to ask a human in person, sometime."

"Perhaps." Ayrea mused, picking up a vacuum pouch from among the pile of foods.

She gazed intently at the dark, bulbous masses flattened against the clear polymer, a blackened residue staining the flesh of whatever unholy sapien delicacy lay within.

"These are fresh." She stated flatly.

"Yes they are. Mushrooms." A hint of pride entered Vetra's voice. I couldn't find any in the hold, but thankfully the arboretum on G Deck still has a functional speed incubator, and a spore repository of Milky Way species. Streaked a day culture last evening, left it running overnight, and _voila._ They're smaller than I would have liked for this recipe, but they'll do."

Ayrea carefully pulled the pouch seals apart, marveling at the dark spore prints left behind as she scooped out the edible fungus onto a clean bowl. A musty odor tickled her nose as she remembered reading a lifetime ago that poisonous species could often be differentiated from desireable ones by features such as the color of spores and gills, morphology, or even a tiny little bite.

"So tell me Vee, how'd you know which species humans like to eat? The spore vault has how many millions of cultivars?"

A self-assured smile crossed Vetra's face as she picked out a pan in which to sauté. Weighing the metal vessel and giving it a practice whisk, she casually explained,

"A few months ago Ryder and I bought some ultraviolet lights from some gentlemen growing plants in the Kadara badlands. I saved the data from a scan of their outpost, which at the time I took just to see what kind of water filtration setup they were using. I remembered they were growing mushrooms along with a bunch of other plants. And wouldn't you know it, the spore bank had an exact match."

The Pathfinder seated himself at the guest's table, arranged at the head of four much longer counterparts now occupied by the members of Company E, of the former 43rd Marine Division. Although their recruitment into the Andromeda Initiative was technically classified as a private military contract, and they no longer reported to a Hierarchy left in the dark about the project until the very last moment, they nevertheless elected to keep their identity, the colors of the unit standing proudly at the far end of the hall alongside the standards of the Initiative and the Systems Alliance, as protocol dictated when accommodating guests of foreign services.

Beside him on another table sat a stern-looking Varka Raev decked in the tight-fitting felt of her officer's blues, her lieutenants seated at each flank. A third table with a single seat draped in a black throw stood on the adjacent corner of the hall, upon which a lit candle rested. Avitus had explained this was prepared as a memorial to fallen comrades. Ryder watched as a pair of marines set up a podium by the Commander's table, adorned with a golden plaque. Behind them followed another pair hoisting a tub of fluid the color and viscosity of reactor coolant, setting it down upon a stand placed prominently behind the dining benches.

"That'll be the grog. Nasty, nasty."

He turned to see Vetra folding her dress to claim a seat beside him, giving his right hand a squeeze under the table as she did so.

"Dinner's coming nicely. Did Avi explain the whole bit about the fines?"

"Something about having to drink that crazy booze mix if they're judged guilty of… stuff?"

"You had it. Some of these guys have embarrassing dirt on one another, or will pretend to for the sake of the ceremony, and the Commander along with her "judges" will sentence them to drink the grog if they're guilty. But this is no kangaroo court, you know. Both the accused and accuser have a chance to sway the Great Vizier- in this case Avitus- on their behalf."

"Didn't think I'd be pulling jury duty tonight, but I'm guessing this might get interesting. So, fines, toasts, food, that's the order right?"

"Correct. No need to overthink it though. This used to be an old, rather serious military tradition where accounts of soldiers bringing 'dishonor' to the unit were entertained and cross examined by peers, but at some point it just devolved into drinking and dramatic teasing. Go figure. So don't take it too seriously. Just pretend to."

As she concluded her explanation, a senior platoon NCO across the hall cleared his throat and snapped into a loud proclamation,

"Attention on deck! By executive order of Fleet authority and the judicial grace of the office, I hereby submit the members of Company Echo, Forty-Third Marines to the review of the honorable Grand Vizier Rix. Good evening, your honor!"

Three dozen voices cried out in unison, "Good evening, your honor!"

The doors at the far end opened to reveal Avitus Rix, a great crimson cape brooched across his shoulders, the collar densely furred, sable guard hairs closest to his head dancing with static as a comically small, magnetically levitated crown plated in gold floated above his head. Only the solemn atmosphere of the proceedings, and the jolting opening notes of the Fleet Anthem delivered over the PA system kept Ryder from bursting out in laughter. To his relief, he saw that some of the marines were grimacing while shrugging their shoulders, or putting their faces in their sleeves as if to suppress a sneeze. He's seen Vetra perform such a ritual when she was actively trying not to laugh. He chanced a glance in her direction, and to her credit she seemed to be holding it in much better than he was.

At the end of Avitus' dignified walk down the center aisle, he assumed his position at the head of the podium. When the final note of the Anthem came, he stated solemnly,

"Warriors, onlookers, and distinguished guests: you may be seated. At this hour let us commence the inquisition."

All at once a flurry of voices clamored for the attention of the Vizier, a barrage of random honorifics calling for his acknowledgement:

" _Your Excellency!"_

" _Your Holiness!"_

" _Most Exalted Vizier!"_

Pointing a talon at one subject, the rest were immediately silenced. The chosen trooper stood up and began pacing the floor like a prosecutor rallying his case.

"Most esteemed Vizier, it brings me exceptional regret to inform you of a confused soul amongst our ranks. I stand before you with evidence of a strange and perverted persuasion on the part of... Flight Engineer Flaviux."

" _EGREGIOUS!_ " cried every voice from the enlisted, minus the accused.

The Grand Vizier nodded gravely.

"You may present your case. Tell us more of this perversion."

The trooper took on a determined demeanor.

"Have any of you ever wondered why Flaviux is so fond of the color orange? Does it seem too coincidental to anyone else that his maiden assignment was to Foxtrot Squadron? These questions among others I have long asked, gentlemen- only to have finally stumbled upon the shocking truth. Your Excellency, I present to you the damning article that proves beyond any doubt that the Flight Engineer is afflicted by a most perverse dysphoria, one that may undermine his loyalties to our very species."

With these words, he produced from under the table a gleaming orange flight helmet, a pair of fuzzy fox ears crudely glued at the temples.

"You bastards! I was looking all day for that!" cried a voice from across the table.

Avitus pounded a comically undersized gavel upon the podium with a resonant _Ping!_

"Order! Specialist First Rate Glicyne Flaviux, would you step forward please?"

Demurely the turian complied, completely unaware of the plush fox tail that one of his peers clipped onto the rearmost loop of his utility belt. Raucous laughter boomed throughout the hall as he presented himself in confusion before the Vizier, who coughed into his hand in an effort to maintain his bearing.

"I wish to remind you that the truth can only set you free. Are you in fact, a small Earthly omnivore trapped in a turian's body?"

"Your Grace, I'm not-"

"Do you fear ridicule for embracing your true vulpine nature?"

"They just glued those ears-"

"How many eons has your orange soul wandered the stars in search of a worthy host?"

" _I-_ " The aviator could hardly muster a response as he struggled not to laugh.

When the laughter throughout the hall finally died, Avitus turned to the Commander's table and gave his verdict.

"Guilty on one count each of disorderly dress and incitement of shenanigans. Recommend one chalice of the grog, followed by an extended howl towards the moon."

Varka Raev eyed up the accused, before delivering the final sentence.

"I do believe, Mister Vizier, that lunar howling is a native behavior of Earth's wolves rather than foxes. Isn't that so, dear Ryder?"

The human pathfinder nodded. "That is so."

"No need to confuse the poor boy's identity even further. One drink of the grog it is. Oh, and Specialist Flaviux?"

"Yes, ma'am?"

"Do you go by the callsign _Foxy_ by any chance?"

"Negative, ma'am."

"You do now. Dismissed."

The condemned about-faced smartly, making his way to the rear under the hoots and wisecracks of his peers. Raising the silver chalice filled to the brim with the noxious liquor, he gulped it down in a single swig, slamming it down on the table to the cheers of the crowd, shouting as one,

" _Witnessed!"_

No sooner had Foxy Flaviux stumbled his way back into his seat than a new case was brought to the Vizier's attention.

"Ladies and gentlemen of this gracious court, I would humbly ask that all fans of the romantic masterpiece _Fleet and Flotilla_ please raise a show of hands."

By Ryder's estimate, five of every six individuals raised their hands, including the Grand Vizier himself. Avitus turned to see the Company Commander with her arms crossed, shaking her head. The tiny-crowned turian arched a scaled eyebrow. In response to his incredulous gaze, Raev doubled down on affirming her disapproval.

" _Sooo_ damn cheesy."

Vetra, who kept at least three editions and remasters of the film on her media drive, pounded a fist on the table and screeched an impassioned " _Egregious!_ ", rousing another round of laughter from the company. When they settled once more, the marine holding the floor continued at the Vizier's command.

"Now," he inquired in a grave tone, "I would ask that anyone who has written lewd fan fiction of _Fleet and Flotilla_ to please keep their hands raised."

All hands dropped immediately.

"Most excellent Vizier, one of these individuals gathered before you is a dirty, lying scoundrel."

Another collective jeer from the crowd.

"SAY IT AIN'T SO!"

Avitus fiddled with his brooch in contemplation.

"Could you explain perchance, to the ears of this court the details of the heinous works in question? Specifically, could you describe between which characters this lewdness, as you say, occurs?"

"My illustrious Vizier, the lewdness is between Shalei's sister and…the geth Platform Delta."

" _Oh my fucking Spirits."_

From the corner of his eye Ryder saw Vetra bury her face in the palms of her hands.

Avitus, meanwhile, merely grimaced in stoic-faced acknowledgement as the loudest clamors of "EGREGIOUS!" yet rocked the walls. When the volume returned to an acceptable level he vainly pleaded,

"Say it ain't so, Marine."

The accusing turian looked at him as if reporting casualties. "Oh, it is so. The author of these salacious texts performs his obscene art under the extranet moniker 'xX SpikyTreats Xx'. But you, ladies and gentlemen, know him as none other than Lieutenant Systus Treev."

The accused shifted uncomfortably in his seat, mandibles flared wider than the wheelbase of the Nomad. "I-it's not what it-"

"-Shall I read a selection from these works", his accuser cut him off. "Perhaps the steamy climax of, uh", he glanced at his omnitool, " _Does This Unit Have A Bone?"_

Avitus buried his face in his hands, wracked by a bout of teary-eyed snickering, barely audible above the crescendo of the Raider's own cackles. He regained his bearing at last, gesturing with a beckoning hand for silence.

"I believe it would be an enriching experience for this refined jury to experience the finer points of the Lieutenant's prose. You may proceed."

Clearing his throat, the all-too-eager prosecutor obliged,

" _Delta's ample caboose fell heavily upon the soft mattress with an audible POMF! as Nira'Las wasted no time in straddling the befuddled Prime, grasping his wrists to immobilize him, secretly relishing her ability to dominate her massive, shy lover._

 _W-what is it you intend to do to this platform, mistress Nira?"_

The orator's composure broke upon finishing the last sentence, forcing him to speak louder as he continued above the company's cacophony.

" _Mmm… my sweet Dee..." she whispered, the carnal desire in her voice undeniable to Delta, modulated as it was by the suit's external speaker. She traced a long finger in pensive circles about the vast silicon musculature of his pectorals, before slowly dragging it southward towards the site of her decidedly Consensus-unapproved modifications to the geth's native physiology._

" _I think it's time we ran through the tentacle diagnostics one more time, Dee." She gave a little squeeze, feeling him flinch. "You know, just for debugging…"_

"-Stop! Stop! _Stop!_ ", interrupted Avitus, clutching the podium for dear life as he faintly spasmed from another bout of hysterics. Ryder watched the Commander turn, mouth agape, towards her subordinate seated beside her, who appeared to melt into his seat as a snowball might on an Elaaden afternoon.

Composing himself, the judicial deadpan of Avitus' character returned for a moment before someone shouted " _tentacle diagnostics!"_ , reducing the proud Vizier to a giggling heap once more.

"Okay- okay- that's it, I'm going to offer you a compromise ill suited for this level of degeneracy: four drinks of the grog, or two, followed by a continuation of this literary masterpiece of yours."

"Forgive my intrusion, your grace, but the Lieutenant's true opus magnum is actually his _Blasto_ crossover sequel, _Meat and Flotilla."_

"FOUR DRINKS, YOUR HONOR", pleaded the Lieutenant, struggling to be heard above the roaring of the crowd.

Vetra was no stranger to soreness, having become accustomed to the many forms of injury resulting from extended manual labor, or rucking across rugged terrain with a smuggled payload, and lately, the heedless throwing of one's body into cover from enemy fire, resulting in countless bruises that wouldn't be felt until the adrenaline passed.

But she had to admit to herself that this was a new and unfamiliar type of soreness that now gripped her abdomen- burning slightly with each lungful of air- the result of an hour of nearly ceaseless laughter. As she quickly washed down the last of her second brandy sour before someone could say something that would have her spitting it back out, she realized she hadn't felt this way since the _Tempest's_ last movie night. For as much fun as this was turning out to be however, she felt a twinge of relief when Avitus glanced at the time and announced at the conclusion of another victim's penance that there only remained sufficient time for one more case to be heard. As the chosen individual stepped forward, she read his uniform insignia, observing that the turian bringing the last case was a platoon sergeant. _This ought to be good,_ she figured. The gravity of an accusation traditionally escalated with the seniority of the prosecutor.

Those gathered in the rowdy hall must have thought similarly, as the room quieted noticeably as the accuser began in a gravelly tone,

"Noble Vizier, you above all understand the importance our kind places on adherence to our sacred martial traditions. With that understanding, it has has come to my attention this evening that there is one among our number at this very moment who stands in flagrant violation of proper etiquette befitting such a dignified gathering as this."

The Grand Vizier cocked his head in puzzlement, royal bearing having eroded under another Heat Sink someone had brought him at some point to wet his whistle.

"Do continue, Color Sergeant."

"I hesitate to use this opportunity to cite the field manual subsection on formal attire, but suffice it to say that there is among us a bareface, one who wears neither the marking of their home colony, nor the regimental colors in the appropriate configuration for peace or war. And _that_ , most eminent Vizier, cannot stand by the dignity of the Forty-Third!"

The umpteenth enunciation of the E-word sounded once more throughout the company.

Avitus scanned the room warily. "And which hapless soul among these, Color Sergeant, is the offending bareface?"

Vetra's heart skipped a beat as an accusing finger was squarely pointed beside her at Ryder. "I'm afraid it is none other than the human Pathfnder, your grace."

Avitus furrowed his crowned brow, scratching at his temple in thought.

"I don't believe Alliance guests are held to the adornment protocols, Color Sergeant, but then again it's been six hundred years since I've reviewed those manuals."

The Commander chimed in.

"Come to think of it, the regs only make that exception for Alliance personnel. And as our fine yet insolent guest here is dressed in the uniform of the Initiative…"

Vetra was becoming unnerved at the uncertainty of where this was going, despite Ryder himself looking more bemused than nervous. Her disquiet was soothed however, when she caught a thin smile and wink from Ryder's accuser before he turned back to addressing Avitus.

"Most grand Vizier, a transgression of this magnitude leaves us only two options. The first is sentencing our hapless human here to the soul-cleansing grog, which would most assuredly be the end of our levo-amino Pathfinder..."

"As amusing as that obituary would be, Color Sergeant, I must insist on hearing any possibility of an alternative."

"That alternative, your grace, is this: With the blessing of our esteemed Commander, I propose that we perform the Rite of Concord here and now, and consecrate our guest as an honorary member of our fine Expeditionary Company, worthy of wearing the unit colors across his hominid face."

A round of cheers followed the NCO's words, and Vetra couldn't help but feel more than a hint of pride in Ryder at hearing the crowd voice their unanimous support, after only having known him for less than a week. _Hey, it's not like you knew him for much longer before you realized you'd do anything for him,_ she admitted to himself. Watching Varka touch a talon to her mandible in thought, Vetra felt a tightness in her chest as she watched the Company Commander contemplate the shallow tins of ochre and gold paint laid before her by Color Sergeant Anvon Varsili. The tension was finally released when she finally stood and clasped the cosmetics in her non-drink hand.

"Very well. Let it be known that Pathfinder Ryder has earned his place amongst my distinguished, beloved Raiders."

A trio of warlike screeches sounded in unison from the ranks. Varka smiled as she turned to Vetra.

"And who better to bestow our war colors upon his face than you, Vetra Nyx of the _Tempest_?"

Accepting the pigments from the Commander's hands, she unclasped the lids, kneeling beside a sheepish Ryder.

"Just hold still for a sec, love. It'll wash off later. Probably."

Ryder could only voice his less-than-absolute faith in her last statement through a pair of concerned eyes as she delicately used the applicator brush to streak a bold, rust-red pair of lines from his cheeks underneath his eyelids, intersecting at the bridge of his nose, followed by a single thin line of gold traced above the first. Satisfied with her work, she marveled at how similarly her own colony mark seemed to resemble this pattern, with the color and angles comprising the only significant differences. She smiled as he stood up to shake the hands of both the Commander and senior NCO, to the cheers of Raev's Raiders rooting for their newest number.

"I'm honored, Commander. Well and truly honored. I- forgive me, I don't know what to say."

"No need to say anything, Pathfinder. You're the kind whose actions speak for themselves better than any words. That's all I could ask of anyone who wears those colors."

With a squeeze she released the human, and turned to face her command while hoisting a cup freshly filled with something that was not grog.

"And now, let us propose a toast…"

First they drank to Palavan and the soils of their faraway colonies.

Next they gave a toast to the burgeoning Initiative and the promise of a new home.

Finally, as the mess night manual indicated this particular day of the week merited a special toast, they lifted their goblets one last time and faced the empty candlelit table.

"To absent friends."

The general atmosphere of the gathering took on a more relaxed and dignified quality as dishes and cutlery were passed about. Ryder marveled at the ingenuity of the silverware's design as he hefted a fork with tines of varying sizes, the smallest at the end made of flexible rubber. He caught Vetra looking at him with bemusement as he contemplated the instrument.

"That one's for cleaning between your teeth and mandibles- You know, just in case you get a little too excited about the awesome dinner we made you."

"I'll try to contain myself..." Ryder said as curiosity took the better of him, nibbling the end of the rubber, warning her, "-but no promises."

The faint odor of cooked meat and marinade caught the Pathfinder's attention as their evening meal arrived, rolled in on service carts laden with steaming trays. Ayrea, wearing an attendant's frock, handed a member of the company's attending detail a plate with a small cut of some foreign meat, red and rare. The PA came alive with a turian parade march as the attendant walked the plate to their table. Presenting this morsel to Avitus, who was now seated beside him, Ryder watched as his fellow Pathfinder pierced it with his fork and consumed it in one bite, silence enveloping the hall as the music stopped. Avitus gazed distantly as he chewed the soupçon slowly, savoring it, before finally gulping it down, announcing with satisfaction,

"I deem this meat savory, and fit for consumption."

The hungry masses cheered faintly as the attendants began filling plates and cups with welcome sustenance, serving the NCOs and officers last in accordance with tradition. Ryder found himself idly chatting with Avitus and Vetra for several minutes before Ayrea materialized over one shoulder with a friendly "Heya!", laying a pair of cloche-covered plates before him. He looked over the impressive display before regarding his grinning server with a bemused grin.

"Fancy."

"Five stars across two galaxies, sweetie. This one's the appetizer, and that one's the main course." She pointed out the two with a gloved talon. "When desserts come around, I'll get you yours, too."

"You're the best."

As Ryder took in the mouthwatering aromas that greeted him upon lifting the cover from his first plate, he suddenly found himself under the watchful eyes of not only the cheery Ayrea, but Vetra, Avitus, and even the Commander craning her neck to get a view of his reaction. A smile parted the two cooks' faces as Ryder's eyes betrayed his visible enjoyment upon taking the first bite.

"Is it good, Ryder?" asked Avitus.

Truth be told, Ryder mused, he hadn't experienced gourmet quite like this in a very long time. In fact, he felt compelled to jettison his typical sense of decorum in order to express himself properly. He gave his thoughts mid-chew,

"Fuck yeah it's good."


	3. Down the Rabbithole

**Chapter 3: Down the Rabbithole**

It was about the time that the smoking lamp was lit that it began to dawn on Ryder just how vast the universe outside the window was, in comparison to the little room he now found himself sharing with all these endearing birdfolk. He had initially shaken off such existential musings, instead watching as hundreds of years of whimsical military tradition dictated the precise manner in which the company's members lit the ends of their thinly-rolled cigars, held upon metal cigar-holders clasped between their avian mouths and mandibles.

Nor did Ryder notice something was amiss when he turned to see his darling lady present him with a levo-tobacco equivalent, flooding him with an uncharacteristically dramatic surge of excitement. Rather, it was shortly after Vetra held a glowing punk to the tip, waiting as he took those first quick pulls to light the fragrant torpedo that Ryder felt himself begin to float. As if submerged, he leaned back slowly in his seat, immobilized amidst the blue cloud that smoked from his nostrils like a ruminating dragon contemplating his hoard.

A metallic tone overtook the voice of his inner monologue, as he heard- no, felt- SAM boil to the surface from his subconscious, sounding… distant, somehow.

 _Ryder, I am detecting a significant amount of neuroactive metabolites from the meal you have recently ingested. We are absorbing active tryptamines at a logarithmic rate._

Ryder's immediate thoughts gravitated towards the possibility that he was being poisoned, an idea that somehow managed to scare him stiffer in his seat than he already was.

"How long do I have?"

The deadpan delivery of his head-partner's words only unsettled him further.

 _Minutes, Pathfinder._

"I'm sorry dear, what was that?"

 _Shit._ He'd asked the question aloud.

"Ah, nothing. Listen, I'm going to make a head call, I'll be right back."

With nearly Herculean effort, he lifted himself from his seat and excused himself from the table, taking a long drag of his smoke as he discreetly walked the length of the hall alongside the nearest wall and stepped into the foyer. Blowing a pungent cloud skyward, he immediately regretted this last pull as wave of vertigo overtook him. With every ounce of coordination he could muster, Ryder stumbled over to the now-empty bar, where he promptly planted the cigar in an ashtray before leaning against the window he'd gazed through with Avitus an hour earlier. A chill ran down his spine as he took in the yawning void, punctuated here and there by the glowing sawteeth of the Scourge. He shivered as he felt a hand descend upon his shoulder.

"You look a little lost", came Vetra's voice. Ryder turned to see her gazing down at him curiously. "Why'd you come back here? Boy's room is down the other hallway, dorkus."

"I- I know, but… I'm not feeling… right. SAM said I ate… poison?"

He watched her expression take on a severe aspect as she quickly took him by the arm and led him lethargically to the nearest barstool. He heard her swear as she placed a cool, scaled hand to his forehead, rapidly typing something in her omnitool. A little smack on his cheek sat him up straight as his drooping head threatened to nod off.

"Hey- hey stay with me, you hear?"

Ryder looked up at Vetra from beneath a roiling emotional avalanche, at a loss for words as she removed her visor to get a closer look at him, allowing him to gaze lovingly into the gorgeously confused emeralds of her eyes.

"Your eyes, Ryder…"

"-brown or hazel? My old motor licenses said brown but I always thought that was wrong."

"We… should probably settle that question when your irises are actually visible. Spirits your pupils are big... Also when you're not, I dunno, possibly dying from somebody poisoning your meal. Someone who might be in the next room right now."

The sound of the hatch opening behind them made Ryder jump, though the sight of Avitus entering with another marine helped settle his rapidly fraying nerves. The turian Pathfinder turned to Vetra as his companion placed a small kit beside Ryder, rapidly donning a pair of gloves and loading a small pin onto the end of a microassay reader.

"Got your message and brought a hand. What's wrong with him, Vetra?"

Before she could respond to Avitus' inquiry, the corpsman beside Ryder pulled away the business end of the reader away from his arm with a sharp _clack_ , a tiny dab of clotting agent sealing a small puncture Ryder hadn't even felt.

"We'll know in a moment. Don't be alarmed, Miss Nyx. The _Natanus'_ medical facilities are a short ride away and stocked with antidotes to just about anything."

Ryder turned to face the medic. Despite being decked in a far fancier uniform than when they'd last met, he recognized this corpsman, even though it was difficult to make out the details of his crested face while he shone a penlight at his eyes, gently preventing him from shuttering his eyelids with the extended talons of one gloved hand.

The human Pathfinder voiced this revelation as he tried fruitlessly to squint. "Hey, you're the guy who made sure Jaal and whatshisface didn't kill one another and start a race war!"

With a chuckle, the turian clicked his penlight off, leaving a blooming green light-spot in the middle of Ryder's field of vision.

"Yup, that's me. And aren't you just the luckiest? The minute I meet you, you're being flattened by two gentlemen in fisticuffs. Now somebody's gone and spiked your cocktail, I guess. It's funny though, there are plenty of poisons a would-be assassin could use that don't leave such an obvious warning as pupil dilation. This presentation is more common with say, date-rape drugs, or-"

"Am I going to have to kill a bitch?" Vetra interjected in a menacing tone.

"Let's not jump to any hasty conclusions", offered Avitus. "We'll know soon enough."

As if to punctuate his conviction, a beeping tone sounded from the medical device a moment later. Ryder watched as the medic's eyes darted back and forth on the screen, before suddenly squinting as he cocked his head back in laughter.

"What could possibly be funny?" demanded Vetra. "Is he going to be all right?"

The medic composed himself. "Yes, forgive me- yes. He will be just fine..."

Ryder didn't feel just fine, but hearing him say this let him breathe a sigh of relief. So deep a sigh in fact, that he found himself on his back, faintly moaning in relief at the discovery that he wasn't dying, in addition to the lovely way his vision kaleidoscoped into scintillating patterns when he closed his eyes. The corpsman's voice sounded as if it was coming from a mile away in a mile-long cave.

"-in about four to six hours. Are you by any chance familiar with the term _trip-sitting_ , Miss Nyx?"

 _Stupid, stupid, stupid!_

Vetra fumed at herself silently as the lift ascended with a quiet hum. It hadn't taken long to deduce that the cause of her partner's dreamy delirium was the mushrooms. It would be best to take him into privacy, she'd heard the medic say, and simply let him ride it out in a safe and relaxed manner. For his part, Ryder was certainly relaxed, as he clung heavily between her and Ayrea, the human trembling with either fright or excitement at the motion of the elevator. By some miracle she'd managed to make him presentable for all of the five minutes it took to thank their hostess and her crew and take their leave under the guise of needing to answer a priority hail from the Nexus. The moment the elevator doors shut Ryder had burst into tears, overwhelmed it seemed, by the grace shown to him in being so warmly inducted an honorary member of Varka's crew. _Everybody's so nice,_ he had sobbed into her shoulder, as if there was something terribly unbearable about it.

She couldn't be mad at him, of course. Vetra found herself stroking his hair soothingly while Ayrea idly rubbed the back of his palm with the hand of her supporting arm. Ryder was on the ninth cloud, as his kind might say, but Vetra was sober enough to understand that her seemingly minor mistake could have easily cost her much more. It wrenched her heart to think she could have fed him a fatally toxic fungus under slightly different circumstances, and she would have been none the wiser until it was too late. How could she have known if those Kadara street pharmacist types weren't growing such a thing to begin with? And why had she been so readily convinced that the species was a foodstuff, given the nature of their grow operation?

Leaning her head against Ryder's as they approached their destination above, she accepted the truth of her negligence- it was an unfortunate side effect of her nature to leverage information and knowledge. She liked to have the best- be it weaponry, clothing, or merely movie snacks- not so much for her own sake as for the sake of witnessing her friends' fulfillment. How she had reveled in watching the crew enjoy their popcorn, or in the desirous glint in her love's eyes the moment he'd seen her in this fine dress. In her eagerness, and the simple thrill of piecing together a fine meal for a foreign palate, she had blinded herself to even the simple concept that humans might possibly grow these fungi for purposes other than food, despite their broadly omnivorous nature. No way around it- she'd played with his life, and come out lucky. It was a gamble she had no intention of taking in the future.

Leaving the lift behind them, Vetra and Ayrea helped their woozy human cohort down the stairs and hallway leading to the docking port, as Ryder narrated his stream of consciousness, punctuated every so often by profuse apologies for the trouble.

"Ryder, sweetheart. I'm telling you, it's not your fault. It's okay."

"Promise?"

She sighed. "Pinky promise, Ryder."

Ayrea piped up. "But we don't have pinkies, Vee."

Ryder looked as if he'd just discovered the mathematical unity between the electroweak and strong nuclear forces.

" _My god..._ "

"Oh come on…" Vetra breathed a groan as she momentarily released him to operate the hatch at the rear of the cargo hold, hoping to give them a subtler ingress into the _Tempest._ As she entered the passcode and worked it open, she turned back to find her turian counterpart and Ryder playing handsies in what was probably mutual astonishment, knowing Ayrea. Rolling her eyes, she nevertheless thanked her profusely and sincerely for all the help as she took the Pathfinder once more, waiting for the two to say their goodbyes before sealing the hatch behind them.

"Are you thirsty, dear?" she whispered, desiring a drink to sate her own thirst.

"Like a fish out of water. Wait, that doesn't really work. Well, kinda…"

She shushed him from this mental loop as they entered the galley, having tiptoed past the crew bunks where their colleagues were trying to get their forty winks above the din of Jaal's snores one deck above. Pouring herself a cup of water, she watched in mild exasperation as Ryder reached into the refrigeration unit, proceeding to drink some juice straight from the bottle. _Lo, how surely drugs make savages of us all_ , she thought morosely. _At least he has the decency to polish it off completely and not stick it back in there. Wait- what's he doing with that chocolate?_

Vetra watched as he unwrapped one of the cocoa-based treats, stuffed with butter of peanut, dropping it into his mouth. By the faint light of the refrigerator, she could see his face contort in utter bliss, his expression a Baroque painter's vision of ecstasy- a saint transfixed at the moment of assumption into the heavenly sphere. Ryder's words were not quite as ennobling however.

" _O-oh_ fuck me sideways, I've never tasted so much chocolate..."

" _Shhh keep it down_!"

Taking her stupefied partner by the hand, Vetra took him by the hand and led him towards his cabin before he could find something else in there to describe with a poet's eloquence. As they were leaving the galley, a giant shadow emerged from the racks. Ryder held her arm in a deathgrip as the figure resolved quickly into a sleepy-eyed Drack, his striped nightgown complete with nightcap covering his scaly head. He wearily eyed the two over.

"You two have a fun time?" he asked quietly in his baritone voice.

"Yes we did. That is, until I gave our shortstack commander here food poisoning like an idiot." Vetra scratched her neck sheepishly. "He's a little spacey right now."

"I really, really like your pajamas, Drack".

The elder krogan chuckled. Even by the dim glow of the nocturnal lighting he could see those moon-sized eyes.

"Thanks, kid. I like your warpaint. Try to get some rest and we'll laugh about this later."

With that, he left Vetra and the hapless Pathfinder to stumble their way into the tidy comfort of his cabin. The two slumped on the bed in mutual exhaustion, basking in a welcome silence for several minutes before Ryder spoke up softly.

"Didn't mean to grab onto you so hard like that. I just… kinda forgot Krogan were a thing for a moment back there. Freakin' war lizards, man…" He yawned dramatically, but even after several more minutes of just laying beside one another and chatting about whatever nonsensical thing came to his mind, he showed no signs of tiring. Vetra stood at last and stretched her legs, walking over to his tragically-undersized bathtub, activating the taps and retrieving the all-important bubble soap.

"Come on, you. You're not going to bed like that."

Reluctantly, he let her help him to his feet. Working her fingers around his collar, she undid his bow tie, before taking his hands into hers and guiding them as he struggled to undo the buttons of his vest and dress shirt, the fasteners too tiny to reliably manipulate herself. She heard him exhale heavily in frustration, prompting her to take his hands away, pulling his chin up with one finger to regard him eye to eye.

"There's no hurry, love. You can do it. Easy now, just focus."

With that she took his hands and guided them around her waist, pressing herself sensually against his chest as his hands roamed where she instructed, his fingers finding purchase upon a zipper at the base of her neck, gliding it down until her black dress fluttered to the floor in a silken heap. She stood with only black, lacey stockings and panties protecting her modesty- another gift for her lover's eyes courtesy of Varka Raev's private wardrobe. Planting a kiss upon his cheek, she whispered encouragement as she brought his hands back to work on freeing himself from his own garments.

He gave a cute little groan as he redoubled his efforts, and through either skill or strength he finally managed to doff his formal attire in favor of his birthday suit. Seating him slowly in the inviting warmth of the bathtub, she stripped of her remaining lingerie and followed suit, straddling herself behind Ryder and holding his chest as they leaned themselves back against the angled backrest.

It took only a few minutes before she could feel the tenseness of his muscles beginning to unwind, and she began to track her fingers leisurely around his upper body, that is, until he put a stop to it by intertwining his fingers into hers and holding them in place. Ryder breathed a contented sigh, leaving little ripples diffracting away upon the surface of the water, before mingling with those formed by the slow dripping of the tap, the sound mellow and relaxing.

"I love you", he stated after a while.

Vetra felt a warmness within her breast that had little to do with the water. She planted another kiss on his cheek from behind.

"Love you bunches, my unlucky spaceman."

She felt him arch his back and reciprocate with a little kiss right under her chin before returning to his initial posture.

"Feeling pretty far from unlucky right about now, all things considered."

"Only because you've got the nicest trip-sitter in the whole Heleus."

"You got that right."

She felt him turn slightly, snuggling his head between her carapace and the crook of her arm. Soon her free hand was stroking gently through his hair, as she quietly called for the lights to be dimmed, SAM node hearing and adjusting accordingly. She considered asking Ryder's AI to put on some nice ambient tracks, perhaps something softer on the discography of Deep Six or KØBA. But in this tender moment, she thought of something better.

She began to hum quietly, vocalizing the ascendant chords of a song she used to sing Sideria on rainy nights, an old song in the lilting, extinct Phracian language, drawing out each syllable.

 _Skies sing lightning_

 _Where the earth meets_

 _His absent heartbeat_

 _No use fighting_

 _When the north wind_

 _Killed the furnace_

 _Freezed the moment_

 _In his steel impureness_

 _Stamped by Spirits_

 _Forged in heartbreak_

 _Four words resonate:_

' _I'll love you always'_

 _Now the sword dries_

 _Down her cheek she cri-i-i-ies_

 _Oh! the red skies_

 _Leak from their own eyes…_

As she concluded the verse, Vetra glanced down to see Ryder slumped completely limp. Pausing to reassure herself that he was still breathing, she was comforted by the sensation of his chest rising and falling beneath her hand, still clutched gently by those of a slumbering Pathfinder.

Although Ryder was no stranger to the curious effects of waking up in unfamiliar places, the moment he opened his eyes and felt himself restrained inches from water was nevertheless followed by what was perhaps the most confusing three seconds of his life since SAM's self-induced cardiac arrest and resuscitation during the Meridian campaign. It wasn't simply that he awoke submerged to his neck, or the fact that Vetra's hands were cradling his head a little too tightly. It felt somehow that he was awakening from absolute oblivion, in a manner similar and yet distinct from his experience being revived out of cryosleep. He yawned broadly, hearing his turian headrest stir from her own snooze.

"Hey there", she greeted him softly.

"Hi. Good, ah… morning?"

"Mhmm… not quite. Feeling okay? Ready for bed?"

He nodded, raising himself to a seated position, feeling his spine and elbows pop as he stretched dramatically, groaning in pleasure. Soon they both extricated themselves from the lukewarm water and dried one another with toweled caresses. As Ryder coiled the soft cloth around the rim of his partner's carapace one last time, he caught his reflection in the mirror, bringing a hand to his face in curiosity as he glimpsed the red and gold still streaked fiercely across his visage.

"Ah hell, tub's already drained. No worries, I think I can get that cleaned up for you."

Ryder observed intently as Vetra licked the tip of a finger and rubbed at one of his cheeks briefly.

"Yup. Enzyme degradable. Come on."

The turian took him by the hand to the edge of the bed. As he seated himself, he saw a pair of matching stockings and pantyhose among the discarded clothes at their feet. Ryder cocked his head with intrigue. _I don't remember seeing that…_

As if reading his thoughts, Vetra leaned in close and inquired suggestively.

"You like those, huh? Spent a good while picking them out and not a single word from you when that dress came off..." A hint of dejection clouded her voice.

Ryder felt his face grow hot, hanging his head at having slighted her in this fashion. He felt the mattress sag beside him, then the fingers of her hand curl around his painted cheek to face her.

"Aww, I'm just giving you a hard time. Can't fault you for being a little distracted."

"Did those ah.. come with the dress?"

"Well, she did specify I could borrow _anything…_ and I must say she has good taste."

"Is it too late to see how they look on you?" Ryder asked.

Vetra's mandibles flared as a smile spread across her face. She leaned in once more to speak into his ear, the hairs on the back of his head standing electrified at the warmth of her breath as she clarified in a husky voice,

"Only if you don't say _please._ "

Ryder humored her. "Pretty please, with graxen on top."

She turned her nose at the suggestion as she donned the fine intimatewear once again. She soon slinked her way back to Ryder, the sway of her hips mesmerising as she took a seat on his lap, folding her legs around his waist and tickling his water-softened skin with the sheer material of her leggings. He planted his lips upon hers, exchanging a deep, lengthy kiss as he wrapped his arms around her for support. When they parted, she gazed lovingly at him for a few moments before giving new instructions:

"Now hold still for me, this won't take too long. Promise."

Before he could ask what she could possibly be thinking of, he watched his alien lover open her maw wide, vainly attempting to move his face away a split second before he felt the slick warmth of her tongue on his cheek, drawing the long blue organ upward. One eye opened in shock as the other closed instinctively, the rough texture of her tongue's surface pulling at his skin and caressing the shuttered eyelid. He could only give a faint moan at the stimulation provided by the unexpected turian tongue bath as she sensually cleaned him, her tongue conducting a lewd symphony as she washed his entire face of the degradable- and apparently foodsafe- pigment. Her hands playfully tousled his hair as she dried his face with a few dabs of a bedsheet corner.

"I have to admit, you looked pretty good in war colors", she said, wiping her chin.

"And you look pretty good without a visor", countered Ryder before adding, "Not saying you don't look damn fine with them, too".

Ryder felt himself pushed firmly down onto his back, his lover straddling him between muscular thighs. An admonishing tone laced Vetra's voice.

"Covering all your bases with that flattery, huh?"

She began grinding herself on his exposed manhood, pinning his hands beside his head by the wrists. He groaned and grimaced at the stimulation, but his turian lover was having none of it, nibbling at his neck as she ground herself needfully against him, the fabric of her dark panties soon soaked as they clung to the contours of her swollen sex. It was only when Ryder felt his eyes water that she slowed to a halt, regarding him with renewed concern.

Ryder heard her ask if he was okay. Nodding, he felt Vetra kiss him gently on the face several times before sitting herself up. She gyrated her hips slightly, giving him one final tease before she pulled aside the silken strap with one finger, wrapping the other around his burgeoning length. Taking a moment to slick him up around the inviting warmth of her entrance, Vetra slipped him inside with a contented hum. Ryder began to buck his hips in rhythm to his lover's bounces, enjoying the sound of her moans whenever she'd clench upon his length whenever he's hilt himself just so.

Releasing his wrists, she took his hands and placed them upon her hips. Ryder got the hint and reached his hands around her, clasping two handfuls of toned turian derrière. Using his newfound leverage, he took on an emboldened pace as he pistoned in and out, Vetra suppressing her growing crescendo of blissful love-sounds by clamping her mouth around one shoulder, the tips of her teeth vibrating against his skin as she drew out an extended, enraptured moan.

Finding himself suddenly unable to pull out from the vicelike squeeze of her tensing sex, Ryder instead pushed himself in as far as he could manage while his partner rode out her shuddering orgasm, a couple of her frontmost teeth breaking his skin as he focused on caressing the back of her head, bending his knees and flexing his thighs to keep from expending himself right then and there. Eventually she relaxed, licking at the pinprick spots of blood she'd drawn.

" _Fuck fuck, sorry!"_

"It's okay. Don't worry about it. Means I did a good job."

She pecked him on the lips. "Always do", she assured him as she resumed her treatment of his minor wounds. She glanced down between his legs, seeing his flagpole still proudly at full mast. "You're a tougher customer, though."

"Might just be a side effect of that dinner even be that I won't be able to finish tonight", he admitted with a resigned shrug, watching transfixed as Vetra straddled herself over him in reverse. She gave a few experimental tugs at the base of his still-primed member before peering back at him over her shoulder, a devilish grin painted on her face.

"Well fuck Ryder, now that just sounds like a challenge."

Before he could muster a response she had engulfed his length completely in her slippery maw, brushing each mandible against the inside of his thighs as she bobbed her head, the gentle suction tugging wetly at him. The dextrous fingers of one hand cradled his jewels, the supple pads of her palm squeezing him ever so gently as she synchronized the motions of her hand to her oral motions with which she milked his shaft.

Overcome by renewed lust, Ryder pulled Vetra's exposed posterior closer with his arms, pulling down her panties fully and latching his face onto the engorged ridges of her clitoris, twitching above her still-drooling entrance. Lashing lovingly with his tongue, he found himself rewarded by a heavy gasp from his partner, who pushed against him as she attempted to refocus on her own efforts. As amazing as it felt however, within only a minute Vetra had to relent, heaving for breath as she subconsciously raised her rump needfully when Ryder pulled his face away.

"Don't… _Ah!_ Don't make me beg for it Ryder. Please."

Under different circumstances Ryder may well have done just that, but he could plainly see the need in both her eyes and nethers, the folds of her passage gaping slightly, engorged with cerulean blood and convulsing faintly for stimulation. Inserting himself slowly once more, he took her on all fours, holding her waist for balance as he flowed in and back out with renewed vigor.

Yet despite another few minutes of this, he felt himself wearing down faster than he could feel his climax approaching. He grunted as he fought to maintain his pace, then faltered. As if sensing his predicament, he felt Vetra loop her spurs around the back of his thighs, pumping him inside her at a steady clip.

" _Don't stop, love._ "

Determined not to give in to fatigue, he kept thrusting, feeling Vetra squeeze him internally in encouragement as her own moans built to a second climax. As he felt himself approach the edge of his stamina at last, he struggled to speak clearly.

"A-almost..."

" _Inside._ " she demanded, pushing him into her harder than ever before. " _I-inside me, please."_

Finally losing control, he grasped his love by the nape of her carapace as he groaned harshly, feeling torrent after torrent of his viscous seed pumping into her spasming passage, painting her insides white with seed as she grabbed a pillow to screech into, the waves of a second orgasm drowning her in bliss.

The two fell heavily beside one another, panting from exhaustion. Voicelessly, Ryder directed SAM to activate the cabin's cooling unit. He felt a welcome breeze ventilate his sweating skin soon after, a chill prickling his member as he slipped out of Vetra's warmth, her muscles unclenching slowly. He heard her breathe in the refrigerated air in a deep yawn, flipping her pillow to the non-bitten side to rest her head upon, calling him with a weak _c'mere._ Ryder curled up behind her- the big spoon for a change- as she murmured happily while playing toesies with his feet, trapping his toes between the cleft of her claws and giggling at his struggles to free himself. Feeling somewhat dirty at the sensation of his warm spunk drooling down her thigh onto his, he checked the time and figured it wouldn't be too egregious to simply pass out for the three hours they had left until the morning watch. But before he could rest peacefully, he had to make sure of something.

"You took your levo prophylactic, right?"

"Of course. Not like I have a death wish. Though of all the ways to die, being vanquished by the Pathfinder's hot payload is prolly at the top of my list." she mused sleepily.

Ryder had a giggle as he clasped tighter around her waist, ready to join her in slumber.

"Hopefully it won't come to that. Heh."

She snorted a chortle at his bad pun, cupping her hands around his and punishing him with one last halfhearted claw-grab at his big toe. Ryder didn't fight it, for he was already asleep.


	4. Epilogue

**Epilogue**

Like many other experiences on this particular morning, Ryder noted in taking a sip of his creamed coffee that it was almost as if he were doing it for the first time. He noticed flavors that hadn't quite struck his palate before, as he gazed past the windows of the bridge to take in the sight of the broken moon high above the indigo storms of the gas giant. Thankfully the scene didn't inspire the same existential anxiety that it had from the behind the wardroom windows of the _Natanus_ last night. In fact, from here there seemed a certain majesty to it, in the knowledge that perhaps future generations would marvel at a spectacular ring system of this planet, a casual footnote for the turians of a different homeworld that this was once their promised land.

His meditation was cut short by Kallo announcing that they were set to depart in ten minutes, running through his preflight checklist with Gil on the other end of the intercom. Suvi was notably absent, an observation he was about to comment on when the hatch opened behind him, in trotting the auburn-haired co-pilot as if on cue. A small box was cradled under one arm, while her opposite hand held a diagnostic handset for computer interface. The science officer greeted him with a little smile as she deposited the box in his hands before strapping herself into the control pit opposite Kallo, speaking with her typical morning cheer,

"Looked over the flight computer one more time, we're shipshape. That box arrived last minute from a courier drone for ya."

Ryder thanked her for retrieving it, wondering what could be sensitive enough to send inside a hermetically-sealed package. Pulling a drawstring, one end of the package peeled open to reveal a simple white card. A note in elegant handwriting was written within, though it was in some foreign language Ryder couldn't make heads or tails of. Upon closer inspection however, he noticed some of the characters bore a resemblance to the serial stampings of the Phaeston rifles stored down in the armory. With a few minutes to spare, he decided to stroll by, finding Vetra in casual wear beneath the Nomad, double checking the tie-downs secured during local jumps in case of gravity failure. He crouched to look underneath the all-terrain vehicle, the supine turian regarding him warmly when she noticed him.

"Hey there handsome. Whatcha got?"

"Any chance you can read this?" he asked, handing her the card.

Vetra looked it over for a moment, before translating.

"Dear Ryder, sorry we made things get a little out of hand last night. Everyone said they had a great time and hoped you did too. Here's a little something I whipped up for you to enjoy when you take off tomorrow. I promise there's no drugs in it _smiley face_. Best wishes, Ayrea."

Vetra shook her head. "Girl's so used to translators she probably forgot that sheets of paper don't have them built in." She handed the card back, tilting her head towards the sealed container, pointing with the end of a ratchet wrench. "And if that's what I think it is, I'm not sure it'd be the brightest idea to trust her on that last part."

Ryder unsealed the pouch he pulled from the box with a resounding _POP_ , the unmistakable aroma of freshly baked chocolate chip cookies soon permeating the air between them, the crumbly treats making his mouth water. He looked down, back at Vetra's scolding expression, and then back down at the cookies.

"I guess that's just a risk I'm gonna have to take", he stated with conviction, popping one down the hatch.

 **End**


End file.
